I think this is one of the sanest, calmest, most level-headed, well-reasoned posts on supporting the troops that I've seen. If you support this current administration, if you believe that you're supporting the troops by doing so, then please read all of the way to the end. This is not one of those posts aimed at trying to vilify conservatives, or vilify liberals. This is one of those smart, rational posts that looks at what really matters and defines our actions around our responsibilities as patriots.
(Original link via Diane.)
Jake walked in and we chatted a bit about this and that (girls, work, book), and as he was going to bed, something (hell if I know what) compelled me to say, "You know, I don't remember if I ever told you this... I told your brother, but not you... but if anything ever happens to me and your dad at the same time, you need to call Pam."
"Pam?"
"Yes, Pam A. (the amazing organizational friend who filed stuff for me)... she knows where the life insurance policies are."
::: odd look from son ::::
"Seriously. If something happens to us, if there's an accident, there's some money. But this policy expires in a couple of years, so after that, you get nothing."
"You're not giving me much time here to form a plan, mom."
Okay, so last year, I went to the dentist, who sent me to the endodontist, who sent me to the periodontist. I even had an orthodontist in on the act. It was team tooth time. And it was imperative that I get something done, they all said. I totally agreed.
But.
I had to finish the book, then there was Christmas and loads of projects which had to be done which had not been done while I wrote the book, then going to NY to meet everyone, and then a few other things thrown in the mix, like starting book two, editing book one and there's a family around here somewhere who kinda wanted some attention, and before you know it, it was May and I still hadn't done anything about the tooth. It could wait, right? It wasn't infected, wasn't hurting. Nada.
Until last Wednesday, I started feeling something scratchy inside my cheek and looked at that molar and saw what looked like bone protruding a little from above my tooth. My beloved, expensive, tooth. (sigh)
A couple of hours of oral surgery later, and the tooth / crown is now removed. There were nasty things like fractured roots and a fractured jaw line and bone grafts (yes, really... I was kinda floored), and eventually, you'll never know it had to be operated on, but right now, I have a bunch of stitches and I look like I'm trying to store a squirrel in there. They are making me a temporary, which will go there until my jaw heals enough to put the permanent tooth back, and I feel like I ought to be on some hillbilly show, although I realize that you cannot actually see the location of the tooth unless I stood in front of you with my mouth wide open while simultaneously pulling my cheek back. So not going to happen, so don't worry.
The real bummer? The pain pills weren't even any fun. Oh, they got rid of the pain well enough, but they didn't make me loopy or happy or even sleepy (damnit). In fact, my thoughts ran amok while on them and I had a hard time sleeping, so I'm off them.
* I may have exaggerated the fun part a bit.
The bottom line to the story: a producer wants to option one of my scripts.
The preamble:
Before I sold the Bobbie Faye books (see description in left column), I was a screenwriter. In fact, that had been my focus for several years before making the switch to fiction. I probably would have never deviated from fiction into screenwriting if my university had not been so closed-minded about anything that was genre. As it was, if you wanted to write anything other than literary fiction, you were going to have a really difficult time getting any serious help or attention from the faculty, who all prided themselves on their literary publications. And, maybe, that was okay, because every program should probably have a focus (I say this with loads of hindsight) in order to be successful, and literary fiction was theirs. I love reading lit fic; in fact, I wrote in that vein for a while, but writing it didn't move me, didn't entertain me in the same way as the bolder stories of genre fiction did.
I had gone back to school when the kids were young; I had already published a lot in non-fiction (news features, magazine articles, mostly local/regional and a couple of national sales), but I wanted to get help in learning how to structure a big story. Novel length. However, through a series of events, I realized I wasn't going to really learn anything, in spite of making straight As, and I felt a world of frustration. I couldn't just pick up and go to another college. There was no internet as we know it today or blogs or links to writing sites. I didn't really understand how to dissect a novel from a writer's POV (instead of just a comparative literary study). There had to be some way to learn structure.
Then lo, there was an answer: screenwriting class. Whether you wanted to write a small, literary script or a big, honking action story, all were welcome. Screenwriting was a new subject for the university, and no one was quite jaded against it yet. (Later, there were many faculty complaints that the screenwriters kept winning all of the big awards and got the attention. Ahem.)
I thrived in that class. The internet was growing by leaps and bounds about the same time, and I discovered the fantastic (and I would say "master level" class-worthy) essays over on Wordplay. I took every one of the university classes they'd let me take, and then they invited me into the MFA program (again, another euphemism for much political bickering and my screenwriting professor and another mentor won). Somewhere in the middle of all of that, I landed an agent. (Another long story, but a big thanks to Tamar for the referral.)
The first script which went out was an action script, and I got tons of meetings. It came very close to selling to Warner Brothers, but they had already spent six million trying to repair a script on a very similar subject as my script, and they didn't want throw that one away, even though the producer said that mine already solved all of the problems they were having with the other one. So, strike one. Next, my agent wanted me to write a romantic comedy. The logic there was to show range to the producers, with the goal being to gain their confidence that I could do any type of story they needed, so that they would hire me on assignment. Assignment work is what runs Hollywood. Spec script sales (a spec script being one a writer creates and writes and then tries to get to an agent to sell) were dropping off. Most producers / studios preferred to come up with an idea (or buy the rights to a property), then get a bunch of screenwriters to pitch how they would execute that idea, and then they'd pick the one whose pitch they liked best and assign them the job. Assignment work is how many screenwriters manage to have long careers... many many scripts do not get made for a thousand different reasons. If all you had was one sale and all you were waiting on was one script to be produced so you could make the production bonus money (the money they paid you when the film was done), you'd go broke in Hollywood very very quickly. Every agent, therefore, tries to get their clients assignment work, but in order to do so, the producer has to be able to see samples of the writer's work: hence writing various types of stories to show a range.
I enjoyed writing the romantic comedy much more than I expected, and it went out wide (meaning lots of producers wanted to read it) and it went to the top of three studios and almost got purchased and then didn't because someone's stars were playing hooky, or Lord knows what, it's hard to tell, but at any rate, it didn't sell. Strike two. Ironically, I got way more meetings, ended up making a lot of long-term contacts who are supportive of my writing through today.
Fast forward through other scripts, which was a wash/rinse/repeat of the above, but all the while, someone, somewhere, would call me about the romantic comedy script. And then that someone would try hard to get it made. Again, and again, and again. We were on the verge of getting it made (it had been optioned), when Katrina hit and the company which was going to make the film ended up being gutted by the losses from the hurricane. I had, however, sold the Bobbie Faye books and was kinda in an, "eh, whatever" mood about the whole thing because really, I have had a tremendous amount of fortune, no need to expect more. When a close friend of mine called me last week to say she'd pitched the script to another production company which loved the concept and wanted to see it, I was still in the, "eh, whatever" mode. That producer happened to be in New Orleans making another film there (he's made eight films in New Orleans alone, so he seems to know the city / state pretty well). When I was on the way to New Orleans yesterday evening to meet said producer, I was still in an, "eh, whatever" frame of mind.
He seems to really love the script and he's serious. We talked about exactly what will happen next, who does what, option agreements, what I wanted, what all I brought to the table. In the previous process of trying to get the film made, I had managed to get some very nice things attached which would be a big deal, marketing wise. (Big as in international prominence. I'll say more later when it's a done deal.) Since I brought several fairly big things to the table, he agreed that I should get a producer's credit (and therefore, producer's money) as well as money for the script. What any of that will be remains to be seen. I'm cautiously optimistic. At this stage, I know he's moving forward. They are drawing up the agreements, which I will then send to a top entertainment attorney in L.A., and my "we'll see" attitude is due to the fact that I don't know what the specific amounts are yet, so I don't know if it's something I'll end up agreeing to. I have ballpark notions (because of the proposed budget).
Mostly, though, I liked his down-to-earth attitude, the fact that he has made a lot of films and has some really good connections, and I was very impressed by his tiny notes on the script. They were extremely smart. (I must be the luckiest freak on the planet to get a really cool editor with terrific notes and now this guy. You may think I'm just saying that because it's a blog, but seriously, I have been impressed.) I like that he wants to move this script up into his next slot and make it his next film. (He has one film in line to do before mine, and another one he was developing which would have been next.) I also like that my close friend would be a producer on this film. She deserves the break and she's an amazing friend and has always always always had my back, even to her own detriment sometimes. I want her to succeed, big time, so if this can do that for her? I will be extremely happy.
The thing about script options, though, which are vastly different from book sales is, the option may end up only being that. If they can't get the stars on board, or if they can't get the exact stars the distributor will approve or the money people will approve, or the right combination of stars, or any number of variables, then the script could be back-burnered until the option ran out and that would be the end. With a book sale, they are definitely publishing the book. It's way more relaxing and joyous for that sort of sale. At the same time, I am sort of bemused by the fact that this little script just won't seem to die. Every single time I have completely forgotten about it, someone else tries to make it. Maybe, just maybe, some good karma will head its way this time. We'll see.
Alison Gaylin cracked me up over on the First Offender blog this morning. When talking about her own discipline, she said:
"[W]hile I'm liking what I've done with it so far, I have pages and pages and pages to go before the first draft is done. And I seem to have the discipline of a second grade class set loose in Chuck E Cheese's with Ozzy Osbourne for a chaperone."
It's a great entry (and not just because she was answering my question!)... but it also points out just how much discipline best selling authors have. I would post about my mulling, surfing of websites, staring into space, but then, you know, my editor reads this, so just for the record, I am writing all of the time. Seriously. Every single minute. You know, when I'm not napping. But other than that? All of the time. (Well, except for checking blogs.) But other that that? Every single moment of every day. Well, except for the...
hmm. I think I'd better shut up now and get back to work.
So. Book 2. It's begun, and I'm pretty jazzed about it. I'm balancing between writing some stuff and still working out some details on the plot twists. This weekend, I had one of those epiphanies that you live for as a writer, a woohoo moment of ooooooh, and if I do that, then it makes all this other stuff mean this other thing and... hey, you. Wake up over there. This is the interesting part! Of writing! Well, maybe not to you.
Sorry about that.
I love the brainstorming part of writing, when a story is new and growing. Sometimes there are discoveries that are giant leaps forward and sometimes, there are little teeny nuances a writer discovers that deepen the meaning of everything around it. I love playing, "what if?" and then seeing where that trail leads.
My way of writing is a sort of mishmash. I tend to write reams of notes, thinking out the characters and what they want, what they need, why, what bothers them, upsets them, makes them happy... what the obstacles I'm about to place in front of them mean, what's at stake for them if they fail, etc. And I also tend to simultaneously start incorporating some of those what ifs, how they'll affect the character, what direction with they take the story, and so on. At some point, the structure of the story gels and I can start writing; I'll have a pretty good idea of where I'm going and the major turning points and twists and obstacles, but I'm also free(ish) to incorporate new discoveries along the way. Sometimes I'll have set something up without realizing it, and then suddenly, I'll have an epiphany about the way that set up could pay off, and I'll usually be floored at how well the set up worked... when I hadn't even planned it that way consciously. Overall, though, I have to have the general structure of the story and know (reasonably well) how it ends to know where I'm going with it. I chalk this up to a tradition of oral storytelling in my family -- it's a bit of a performance art, really, and you have to know where you're going so you know how to bring your audience along with you. (If that makes sense.)
So, I'd worked on book 2 quite a bit prior to getting the edits from my editor, and am back working on it, having a lot of fun, although this part of the writing process is the one where my family wants to say, "Yeah, sure you're writing while you're staring out the window eating chocolate." Hey, it is not my fault that staring and chocolate are required for brainstorming. It says so. You know, in the writer's manual. Which I had around here somewhere. It was on page 82, I think. And I'd be happy to show you... as soon as I put my hands on it... I think someone borrowed it. But I'm telling the truth. Would I lie to you?